Lucia - Andrea Di Robilant [120]
Chapter Nine
A YEAR IN PARIS
Lucia thought Alvisetto had grown “prodigiously” since she had last seen him. When he rushed to embrace her, clutching a bouquet of fresh flowers in one hand and a small portrait of Napoleon in the other (it was originally intended for Alvise), she was shocked to see that he was quite a bit taller than her. At close range, she also noticed the jumble of new teeth that crowded his mouth and had slightly altered his facial expression. After more hugging and kissing before a fretful Vérand and an over-excited Teresa, Lucia dragged Alvisetto off to the nearby church of Saint Sulpice for a prayer of thanksgiving; then the two went off, hand in hand, to the Tuileries Gardens.
On closer inspection, she realised her son had twice as many canines as he should, and they were growing one on top of the other. “One only notices when he opens his mouth or laughs,” she later assured Paolina. Still, the extra teeth were going to have to be pulled out. “I feel for the poor boy, and of course I worry the irons will damage the enamel on his other teeth.”1 The light dimmed on the way back home, and Lucia also noticed her son’s vision was not very good. He was probably a little short-sighted, she guessed. He would have to have his eyes checked for glasses.
Alvisetto and Vérand no longer lodged with the Humberts. In view of Lucia’s arrival, they had moved to an apartment in a petit hotel on a quiet street in Faubourg Saint Germain. The house belonged to Monsieur Minier, an etcher of some repute who lived on the ground and first floors with his wife. The Mocenigos were on the second and third floors. It was not a large apartment by any means. The antechamber was used as a dining room. On the southern side, a small living room overlooked the pretty garden tended by Madame Minier. Opposite to the living room, separated by a narrow corridor, was Lucia’s bedroom, which had a rather glamorous view of Jacques-Louis David’s house-studio (she occasionally glimpsed the great artist as he got in or out of his carriage). A staircase led to Alvisetto’s bedroom on the upper floor, next to which was Vérand’s room. Teresa, who had come to Paris with Lucia, slept in the maid’s room on the same floor. Despite the size, Lucia found the apartment to be adequate. One problem bothered her, however: the lack of shutters at her bedroom windows. Also, the gratings could not be secured, and banged when the wind picked up in the evening. She resolved the matter by sleeping in the living room, where it was quieter.
Once the joy of their reunion had worn off, Lucia focused on Alvisetto’s manners. She did not like what she saw. “He doesn’t hold himself well at the table,” she complained to her sister. “He tends to slouch or lean his head on his open hand. And he eats much too quickly.”2 She was disappointed by Vérand, who seemed entirely self-absorbed and fretted about mysterious ailments during much of the day. Alvisetto had lost respect for his old tutor, and teased him no end. Vérand, on his part, made no effort to engage the boy in conversation or stimulate his mind in any way. They had grown into an odd couple, and Lucia wondered what their daily tête à têtes could possibly have been like during all the time they had lived together.
One evening—Lucia happened to be out on a visit—Alvisetto came to the table with the penknife he used to sharpen his pencils, and left it open, beside his plate. At some point during dinner, Vérand asked him to pass him a lemon, and Alvisetto, rather rudely, told him to get it himself. Vérand lost patience and leaned over brusquely to grab the lemon. Fearing Vérand was about to strike him, Alvisetto